It had been three weeks since that night in the Cape Town hotel room. Three weeks of her sending me teasing voice notes—half-moans, half-laughs—while her husband watched the replayed videos of her squirting arcs across the sheets. Three weeks of messages that started innocent ("Miss your grip") and ended filthy ("Next time I want to feel ruined twice as hard").

Then came the text that stopped my heart for a second: "Chapter two is happening tonight. Same hotel. But I'm bringing a friend. My bestie since varsity days. She's seen the videos... wants to see the real thing. And maybe taste it. You game, wrecker? 😈"

I arrived early. The same soundproof room, floor-to-ceiling windows glowing with Table Mountain lights. I poured three glasses of red, left the bottle open. Heart hammering like the first time.

The door opened at exactly 9 PM. She walked in first—same confident stride, skirt already hiked high enough to show the lace tops of her stockings. Behind her, her best friend: taller, darker hair, curves that matched hers but softer, fuller in the hips. She wore a tight black dress that clung like a second skin, eyes wide with nervous excitement and something hungrier.

"Meet Leanne," my vixen said, voice low and smoky. "She's bi-curious, curious about you, and very curious about what you did to me last time." She stepped close, fingers trailing down my chest. "We talked about it. A lot. She wants to watch... then join. Think you can handle two of us, Cape Town boy?"

Leanne smiled shyly but boldly, biting her lip. "I've heard the stories. Seen the bruises you left on her thighs. I want that too... but first, I want to taste what you left inside her."

Fuck.

I didn't waste words. I grabbed my original girl by the waist, pulled her against me, kissed her hard—the same bruising way she'd kissed me before. Leanne watched, breathing faster, one hand already slipping under her own dress.

"Strip her," I growled against my vixen's mouth. "Show me what I'm about to ruin together."

Leanne moved like she'd been waiting for permission her whole life. She unzipped her friend's dress slowly, letting it pool at her feet. No bra—just those perfect tits, nipples already hard. She knelt, kissed down her stomach, then lower, tongue flicking out to taste the lace panties already soaked.

"She's dripping already," Leanne murmured, looking up at me. "Just from thinking about you."

I stepped behind my vixen, hands sliding up to cup her breasts, pinching nipples while Leanne tugged the panties aside and buried her face. The room filled with wet sounds, moans in Afrikaans, and that signature squirt-threat building fast.

"Bed," I commanded. They obeyed—my girl on her back, legs spread wide; Leanne between them, ass up, dress still on but hiked. I ripped my shirt off, cock straining, and positioned myself behind Leanne first. One hand in her hair, guiding her mouth deeper onto my vixen's clit, while I teased Leanne's entrance with my tip.

"You want to feel what wrecked your friend?" I asked, voice rough.

Leanne nodded frantically, muffled against wet folds. "Yes—please—stretch me like you did her."

I pushed in slow at first, letting her feel every inch, then harder. She gasped, back arching, tongue never leaving my vixen's pussy. The sight was obscene: Leanne getting fucked from behind while eating her best friend out, both of them moaning in harmony.

My vixen reached down, fingers tangling in Leanne's hair, grinding against her mouth. "Fuck her harder," she begged me. "Make her squirt for us."

I did. Deep, punishing thrusts—hand print forming on Leanne's ass, her cries vibrating right into my girl's clit. It didn't take long. Leanne shattered first, body convulsing, a sudden gush soaking my thighs and the sheets. My vixen followed seconds later, squirting hard across Leanne's face, screaming my name like a prayer.

We flipped positions. Now my vixen rode my face while Leanne straddled my cock reverse cowgirl, bouncing with greedy rhythm. Hands everywhere—Leanne's on her own tits, my vixen's on Leanne's hips, guiding her down harder. I reached around, fingers finding both clits, rubbing in sync.

"Fill us," my vixen whispered, leaning forward to kiss Leanne deeply, tongues tangling while they rode me together. "Breed us both like the stories."

The buildup was brutal. Their moans mixed, bodies slick with sweat and release. When I came, it was explosive—deep inside Leanne first, then pulling out to finish on my vixen's stomach while she rubbed it in, marking herself.

We collapsed in a heap of limbs, breathing ragged, sheets wrecked again. Leanne kissed my vixen's shoulder softly. "That was... better than the videos."

My girl laughed, weak and satisfied. "Told you he wrecks everything he touches."

She grabbed her phone, snapped a quick photo—cum glistening on skin, two sets of thighs pressed together—and sent it to her husband with one word:

"Chapter two complete.

Chapter three? Bring the camera."

I smiled against their necks. The wreckage was only getting started.